LSF Prequel What Dreams May Come
by GrimRabbit
Summary: My version of LSF Revan's fall and subsequent reign of terror. Cliffhangery, but more will come.


**What dreams may come**

**Chapter One**

I was jostled awake by a large hand attached to a bald head and a tall, lanky form. A quick glance at the clock told me that no, I wasn't supposed to be awake. What cruel and unusual torment would rip a ten year old girl out of a sound sleep? Unfortunately, the unusual torment happened to also be ten. "Malak. Go. Away."

I could see him frowning in the darkness. He yanked the covers off of me and tossed them to the floor. "Come _on_, Revan! The Master only meets with Padawans of our age really early in the morning," he said, folding his long arms over his chest. Oh, right. I forgot about that. I caught my alarm seconds before I set it to go off, slapping on the light above my bunk.

"This had better be worth it," I grumbled, belting my robe over my nightshirt and snagging my jacket on the way out. We waited in the hallway to be noticed by the battleaxe that didn't like playing with the kiddies. Since I didn't like playing with the kiddies myself, I could sympathize. The door opened and the robed, shadowed figure took one step into the hallway.

"Go away, children. I'm sure Master Zhar will be much more thorough in his lecture today," sarcasm plain in her aged voice. She turned to go, the door beginning to close behind her. I stuck one foot in the way, annoyed. I did not get up this early in the morning after a late night battle lesson with Master Vandar to be stopped at the door. She slammed the door on my foot. Four times. "You are persistent. That is good," she said, holding the door open for us. I managed my way in without limping and was proud.

She motioned towards two seats and took one opposite from them. Malak and I sat and waited. She remained quiet, studying us, I think. I couldn't see her eyes but she shifted slightly, looking from Malak to me and back. After about a minute and a half I began to get antsy. "Look…" I began, but she held a hand to silence me.

"There is a difference between persistence and patience," she said sharply and went back to her deep scrutiny of us. When she finally spoke ten minutes later, both Malak and I jumped. "Do you dream?" she asked. Malak frowned in confusion and I stiffened. She didn't know, I promised myself.

"Sometimes. I dream of my mom, my uncles," Malak said. The old Master did not even acknowledge him.

"Revan?"

"I dream of death." I said that and nothing more. She didn't deserve more of an explanation from me. Usually, my Jedi Masters frown at this point, ask me why. She smiled and nodded.

"Be here tomorrow an hour before breakfast is called for your age range," she said simply, standing and turning away from us. Apparently, we were dismissed. I waited until we were half way back to the children's dorms before I said anything.

"I really hope this is worth it." I had wasted time on Vrook already, going through several different tests to latch on to yet another philosophical study. How they can wax poetic about pacifism and preach violence at the same time is beyond me. I wanted to know more about the Force, I wanted more control over it, _and I wanted more control over my visions._

"What was all that crap about dreams, anyways?"

"I don't know." I hated lying to Malak. My oldest and only friend. I couldn't tell him of my realistic dreams. Where I kill my father again. Where I kill him. Or the dream where the sexy man with the long dark hair tell me he wants me and means nothing sexual in it. I needed balance. I needed a way to block them, control them.

"Ooh, they're serving Coruscant nectarines with breakfast." Malak had a sweet tooth and loved fruit. I didn't share his zeal. Food was something you ate so you didn't die. I still startled people with my awkward eating habits, enough so that the Jedi Academy had installed a small, stocked fridge under my bed. You pass out from hunger three times and they get all weird on you.

Next was a study session with Master Zhar that mostly consisted of reading essays from great Jedi Masters and then discussing them afterwards. The current one confused me. It was a work of the dark side, the first one they let slip into our hands. It was a paranoid ranting, bashing the order, bashing Republic politicians.

_What makes them right? Nothing. The Jedi Order consists of children, fearing the darkness. Lesson one in guerrilla warfare will tell you that darkness is your friend, a great tool, a worthy weapon. They fear me, my power. They have always held me back. They fear the greatness that comes to all those who embrace their anger and are strengthened by it. Those who use their hate to carry themselves onward. They call me evil, but I'm not the one stealing children from their parents and filling their heads with lies._

I wasn't sure what to make of it. Worse yet, some of what was said made sense to me. Was the Jedi Order holding me back? Why would they not allow me into greater mind training classes if it was what I wished? Stupid, Revan. They don't allow you in because they believe you are not ready, that you don't have the wisdom. They don't do it for some intangible fear of your power.

"Despite the paranoia lined in every word, you see the reason to it, how it almost makes sense. The dark side seems very logical at times, but it is not. This kind of thinking is something we should be wary of, for it only leads to doubt, hate, and the dark side." That argument sucked. Could you have thrown 'Never question the Jedi Order' out more clearly? Why is it they use such tactless advances, such cyclical logic on the younger ones? Do they tout this throughout the rest of our lives? Or is it just Zhar and his dubious oratory skills? "Revan, what did you think of it?"

Overplayed, paranoid, and better thought out than any argument you've ever made. Is it wrong of me to be so cruel to Master Zhar? "I thought it was arrogant. The Jedi Order is much larger than one person. It would have no need to focus solely on one individual. And how can it have existed so long if it denies the greater bulk of power that supposedly comes with hate? Why would it limit itself in such a way?"

He smiled like I had jumped through the precise hoop he wanted me to. "Very good. Class, take this lesson to heart. Think upon what young Revan has said. You're dismissed," he said, and we filed out of the classroom with an organized haste. Malak caught up to me, his longer legs making it easy work for him. We were headed to the sparing grounds for Vrook's age 9-12 class.

"That was weird, today's lesson. I thought the essay was kind of… scary," he said.

"It was pathetic, Malak. Weak, delusional. Put it out of your mind and start focusing. I'm going to kick your ass today." We headed to the mats and waited for our training swords. Beside me, Malak was grinning and shaking his head.

"Rev, you're a foot shorter than me, you don't have any reach to speak of, and you're a girl, which means less upper body strength. I'm not a normal boy, either. I'm tall and muscled and should easily be able to take you down," he said conversationally. Of course, we had this conversation almost every other day. The rest of the days he just admits that I was going to thrash him. It might be horrible of me, it might be a slant towards the darkside, but I _loved_ sparing; I loved fighting. The wooden swords were passed out and we began.

I cannot describe the experience. The rush of blood in the veins, the pounding of flesh and wood on flesh and wood, the focus required that blots out everything else from the mind. It was repetitious and inventive in one, mind-numbingly boring and exhilarating at the same time. I tend to get a little carried away, tend to forget everything else but the battle, the sweet song of violence and survival. Malak was replaced by someone else, then another face. I wasn't sure how many of my classmates I went through before someone grabbed my wrist and held it high above my head.

I took a swing at Vrook before dropping my sword and muttering some apology. He still had my wrist firmly, high above my head. I stared up at him and the world dropped away.

"We don't have a choice! It's the only way."

"It's the path to the darkside."

"Zhar, this is the only way to save the Republic, the Jedi Order. We are merely getting rid of a Sith Lord…. Revan, this is going to hurt." Pain came next, a ripping of self, memory, identity, a stripping of the mind to the basic person within.

I came to screaming on the sparing room floor with Vrook bent over me and a slightly bloody Malak wringing his large hands beside him. From the amount of blood, I judged I must have gone easy on him today. Vrook's hands were on either side of my face, turning it this way and that way, his thumbs pulling up my eyelids. "You're not ready for that training, but there isn't much of a choice. Telic, send someone for the vision's master," he said.

A rage swamped through me at that moment. I had been dealing with the pain and the confusion of visions throughout my life and they had knowingly denied me help? They were unsure of whether or not to, at this point, help me control what gifts the force gave me because I wasn't 'ready?' No, rather, just let me muddle through it on my own and go insane from not being able to tell reality from fantasy. Yes, I'd prefer the mind blowing pain so that we can be sure I'm fully ready for the training that would let me control it. Saviors. Yea, sure. I didn't say any of this, just kept looking at him with my faded blue eyes.

I was puzzling a little over what had happened in the vision when the old woman from this morning appeared, stalking across the floor with dark robes swirling around her. She laid a withered palm on my temple and I think closed her eyes. I felt her lightly in my head before slamming down the blocks I already knew. No one gets my thoughts except me. "Child, I cannot help you if you do not let me in." Super. Stay out and I'll figure this out for myself.

"I do not know how to regulate you," I muttered. I only knew how to let someone in, or not let them in. I didn't know how to slap down on certain parts while leaving others open. She smiled gently.

"Control is important to you, it is to all victims. There is nothing in your mind I want more than your visions, youngling," she rasped. A cold chill ran up my spine. How dare she? And I knew it was the Jedi Order, with their file on me. I wondered what terms they used, what the particular language was for what had happened to me and what I did. _The subject was subjected to physical and sexual abuse as well as displaying violent tendencies._ May the Force help them if I ever lay hands on my file.

I opened, and it was like pushing open a rusted door. She blew through my mind like the stench of death, lingered on the dreams and visions, hungered over them. I caught the whiff of envy in her mind and I'm sure she caught my smug satisfaction before the door slammed shut. "I can help you control them, child. Tomorrow, your lesson begins."

"What do you think the most recent one meant, Master?" I couldn't help asking. It confused me. It confused me almost as much as the one where I kill Malak, where I fight the gorgeous brunette Jedi. She shook her head.

"Possibilities of the future, young Revan. There will come a time when you can pick and choose from them." And that is were the envy came in. The old master wanted that sort of utter control over the future. But it was not meant for her, and the subject before her would not have anyone other than herself choose the future.

"Ok." So, strike me killing Malak. And strike me getting my head dallied with by Vrook and Co. The brunette fight is optional. Oh, and all futures where I meet the man of my dreams will have to be exempt as well. I still have no name for the man with the long dark hair and the big dark eyes but he gives me the creeps. His hunger is greater than the old master's. And there is no envy in him. Envy is too much a human emotion for him.

I shrugged off such depressing thoughts and headed for lunch with Malak. "Are you alright, Revan? You started screaming and jerking in Vrook's hands. That, and you didn't beat me senseless today. You seemed more bent on quantity rather than quality in the thrashings you were handing out."

"It was odd. I saw… Vrook, but older in a way. He told me it was going to hurt then he did something to me. I'm sorry. I'm not making much sense."

"What did he do?"

"I don't know." And that was almost a lie. I know what it felt like, but it goes against the Jedi Order. The rumors I've heard, about the darkside being able to strip the personality from a person. The Jedi Order almost feverishly stands against such things, uses such rumors of how horrible the darkside can be. So, why would they stoop to using them? I had to admit a certain curiosity as to what could humble the Jedi Order in such a way.

"But you're okay now?"

"Yea." Another lie. I was shaken. With the old woman's perusal of my mind, all those old visions were dredged up and floating around my head. And all of them, in some way, had to do with death. One of Malak's hands fell on my shoulder, jerking me around to face him.

"Revan. You scared me. You're the only family I have. I can't loose you. I want the truth from you. Are you okay?" he asked, and I could see the concern on his face. I softened. I couldn't help it. He was the only family I acknowledged, too.

"I'm a little uneasy. The visions I've been getting are not the good type. But the Master said I could eventually pick and choose. So, all I have to do is find one thing I want most and make everything fall into place beside it." He looked relieved and still concerned at once. We started back towards the cafeteria, silent in our own thoughts.

"I have one thing I want. I will protect you, Revan. I will find a way," he muttered, half to me, half not.

"All I can think of now, is the promise that I made to protect you from what's going to come. It's given me a reason to look past simple revenge," said yet another voice. This one was new to me, male, adult. There was desperation and love wrapped together in his voice, almost a plea, almost relief. I blinked rapidly, shook my head, and headed towards food.

**Chapter Two**

Malak joined me and we headed towards the old woman Jedi Master's room at a more sensible hour the next morning. We again waited outside, but I could almost feel her laughter in my head. I hit the button to make the doors whoosh open and slid inside, Malak indecisively following. The smell of fresh coffee was in the air and the scent alone was almost invigorating. I sat in the chair I had sat in yesterday and Malak did the same, tucking his long legs under himself. We waited only moments before she emerged with a small tray with three cups on it.

She passed me a mug with tea, sugar, and honey in it, no milk. Malak's was coffee, heavy on the cream and sugar. Hers, from what I could tell, was black coffee. I could see the surprise on Malak that she got our morning drink choices right. I thought I'd bail him out a little. "I thought there was nothing in my mind that interested you more than the visions."

"I wanted to know a little more about you. And I wanted to know more about what you felt for him. You are most loyal…" she said with a small smile. Malak blushed slightly and I frowned. What? Never mind, that's not why I was there.

"Can we get started, please?"

"Remember what I told you of patience?" she asked, and sipped her coffee. She was on her second cup before we did anything. It started with the basic techniques, the physical ones. These included mantras, sitting positions, focusing, hypnosis techniques, and some calming exercises. She set it so that we had private sessions at night, and within a few days we began some of the grittier techniques.

It was a week later, after the last lesson of the day but before dinner that I sat in the bright wash of sunshine and opened myself to the visions. There was a replay of older ones, but I sought the one I wanted and let it play through my head several times before fresh visions began.

"All I can think of now, is the promise that I made to protect you from what's going to come. It's given me a reason to look past simple revenge." Who are you? Have I met you already? Do I kill you? "You really are beautiful." Oh, please. My hair is a mess of spikes and the only thing stunning about my eyes is the utter lack of anything stunning about them. "You scare me sometimes." Well, that's easier to swallow. "You gave me a future… I want to give you a future too, with me." Who are you!

"I'm Carth, one of the Republic soldiers from the Endar Spire, I was with you in the escape pod, do you remember?" When do I meet you? "I love you. Nothing you say, nothing you've done, can change that." Well, you just made it on to the list of things I want to happen. Not a priority, but there, none the less. "Come, you need rest." Yea, probably.

I shook out of it and opened by eyes to the peaceful courtyard, let the breeze calm me. And the world slipped away. I was on a small ship, in the common area. There was a Twilek, a Wookie, two bots, a Cathar, and three mostly human males. One of the men, with doe brown hair and eyes like the brightest fall leaves, stepped towards me, rage painted on his features. When he spoke, I knew him from his voice.

**"Are you going to tell them or should I?" Carth, the Republic soldier.**

**"Tell us what?"**

**"I'm Revan."**

I shook my head and headed towards the cafeteria. I had skipped lunch to sit in on one of Master Dorak's readings, so I was almost looking forward to the meal. I caught up to Malak there, his height and his bald head making him easy to find. He beamed when he saw me, actual pleasure making his brown eyes shine. "How are you?" he asked, and I knew he was referring to how well I was coping with the visions.

"They're more often now, but I'm beginning to be able to control them, twist them. Soon I'll be able to see threads, see how they interconnect. I think I'm excited about that prospect."

Malak laughed. "You would be. I think the last thing I want to know is the future. I suppose that's because I expect there to be a lot of bad in it, and I want to enjoy not knowing."

"That's pessimistic." But accurate. I could almost see him as an older person, his brown eyes cold, the light stamped right from them. The thought slipped away and we ate, chattering about inane topics and gossiping about the Masters. The newest rumor going around was the Vrook lost a testicle in a knife fight on Alderan. Of course, it didn't really happen, but it was fun to wonder if it did.

After eating we headed towards the dorm common area to play one of the enlightening and almost boring games allowed to us by the Jedi Order. We settled for Latrunculi, the Jedi version of chess. I chose the clouded pieces and he chose the clear ones, both of us thinking these constant reminders of the darkside were tedious. I didn't see the old master until she was nearly to me. She yanked me out of my chair with almost violent force, her withered hands digging with more strength that they should have possessed. And because this triggered old memories for me, I struck out blindly and wind pushed her back. We both toppled to the floor and were glaring at each other when a distance opened between us. She shrunk in my vision and I was standing on a cliff with time and the galaxy stretched out before me.

I saw like a path a war, with the attackers of the Republic strong, unskilled in the force. Their identity was shrouded and wholly unimportant. They attacked and the Jedi Order hesitated in wisdom and I heeded their judgment. They entered late, withdrawn in their support, stingy. I saw my brown haired Republic soldier fall on a random world, saw the attractive brunette I fight in my dreams go next. And I saw the Republic victorious against these attackers, after a long, twenty year war. And then I saw a tide of darkness well up and swallow the light, crush the remains of the once proud Republic, saw wisdom and piety proved to be nothing.

I was staring at my old, hooded master and knew she caught the faint edges of my vision, knew she knew the significance, knew she wanted what I had found. I shook my head briefly and tossed that line of future in the 'no' pile. I did not need to see her eyes to see the jealousy written in them and it gave me the keys to her soul. The future was mine to decide and I had found one thing I wanted to make everything fall into place beside. The Republic.

**Chapter Three**

I was comfortable and warm, drowsy and not dreaming of pain. My cozy fleshy pillow grumbled slightly before settling back into inertness. "You know, Revan, this could almost be construed at sexual. Tisk, tisk, if the council found out about your little love child." I opened my faded blue eyes and glared at the visions Master who was leaning over me and Malak. We were fourteen, in the full bloom of early adolescence, or, at least, I was. Malak probably still believed in coodies for all I knew. But I hadn't given him or anyone else any thought in that regard. And if I was going to give someone that kind of thinking, it wouldn't be Malak.

That would make crawling into his bed after bad dreams, night tremors, or harsher dream visions rather awkward. And I have found, based on experience from a three month stretch at Coruscant's temple, that I need sleep. Hallucinations combined with visions is a no no. Big time. I think I am afraid to try the Tarisian Ale floating around the slightly older dorms. Malak sat up beside me, rubbing at his sleepy brown eyes. He glared at the visions Master. "What?"

"Nothing, Malak. Go back to sleep." She thought he was an inconvenience, that much I knew. Having a familiar Force energy to focus on while I slept kept me from getting visions and I think she would have rathered I simply pull them in at all hours, have no time to digest them, and go mad from lack of sleep and reality based moments. Insane people are easily manipulated. It's a wonder why I would stay around her knowing what ill she had planned for me. But, and I know this is arrogance on my part, having her close allowed me to see some of her plans for me and prevent against them. Plus, I liked watching her frustration and jealousy.

"What is it you want?" I asked, still snuggled under the covers. Last night's dream had been about my father and that never failed to get me worked up. Malak hadn't asked questions, just held up the covers for me.

"There is something I want you to see," she said, and I caught an unspoken echo. _And someone I want you to avoid._ Who? I had a flash of a blood soaked emperor with my eyes and shook that image from my head. Probably best not to find out. I slipped out of bed and padded to the closet, changed quickly, and was ready to follow the visions Master would lead me.

"You want company?" Malak asked, rubbing at his eyes. The Master sneered at him and it was tempting to say yes just to annoy her. I refrained.

"No, Malak, I'm fine," I said, because I sense that she wanted to keep me away from the temple for a while and to do so involved power, control, and visions in which he had no knack for. We were halfway to the marketplace before I stopped her. "Why are we going shopping?"

"We aren't. You are. Let me show you something," she said, and took an ornate box out of her bag. She opened it to show several useless knick knacks. A cracked piece of hurrikaine, a dyed blue feather, a wrinkled piece of parchment, a scrap of green leather, and a bottle cap twisted and hammered into a skull. It took several second of processing and she waited quietly while it sank it. They were her foci, what she used to help her focus her visions. I didn't want to tell her I had done similar focusing by merely repeating an old vision.

"I'm the broken hurrikaine, aren't I?" I asked. In and of itself powerful but vulnerable all the same, ruined for use, shattered by something overwhelming. She nodded. "The blue feather… is that a world?" Again, she nodded. "The green leather is also a world, and the parchment is the Jedi Order." I didn't need her nod this time, I could almost see the visions she attached to the objects. I did not focus on the hurrikaine. The bottle cap, however, confused me. "Something ordinary shaped into the sigil of death?"

"That is something I came across when I looked at you. There is something there," she said softly, trailing off and passing a hand almost lovingly over the skull. I touched it lightly and tried to hide the stiffening that came with the visions. It came and went quickly, something I did had created a rift in the Force and one hard to reach path of the future dealt with an atrocity that was easily understood. It was something she wanted, an end to what she considered the fate that had given her hardship from the beginning of time. I never knew she was that… whiny. Or arrogant, what ever works.

I also knew she lied to me. The skull had come first. She had picked up the bottle cap one day and concentrated on envisioning thing, had manipulated it from there. From that skull she had caught sight of me, and I knew I stood in the way of her goal, that I could make or break it.

We arrived at the marketplace and the first place I headed to was an old junk shop. The galaxy is full of broken people and broken places, full of people who will be broken, full of places that will be broken. I'm not much of an optimist. The Master hovered, but kept enough distance for me not to be able to complain. I settled in the toy section, passing along all the broken toys. There was a white chess king with the crown broken off, making it look bald in a way. It made me think of Malak and smile.

A pawn from a fancier chess game in jade green took the place for me what the skull was to my Master. Something about the grim little soldier made me think of desperate thoughts and waiting death. A princess from one of the girlish games, with flowing brown hair, became the brunette Jedi I keep seeing. A black, featureless stone, flecked with white became the man with the long black hair and the bottomless eyes. There was a brown leather jacket from a missing doll that had to have been ugly as sin, and that, to me, was the Republic soldier. I chose a miniature snow globe for the Republic, with its quaint, almost vulnerable looking cottage. The Jedi order was a gray, Corellian topaz, pretty to look at, utterly worthless. And, for my visions Master, I chose a small, toy glass eyeball.

She said nothing about my purchases (which totaled about fifty cents) and spent the trip home instructing me on how to attach meaning to these items. It involved visualization of the item and a replaying of old visions, focus and time. I found a quiet spot in the courtyard and spread them out before me, trying to decide where to start. Malak found me there shortly later, looking excited. "You missed it!"

"Missed what?" I asked, not looking up from my strewn, broken tidbits. He glanced at them then back to me.

"Uthar Quent was here. The senator and Jedi Knight. He's a positive role model," Malak added in afterthought, probably because it was told to him often enough. I rolled my eyes. Yea, Quent was a positive role model and probably in bed with the Exchange. I looked back to my foci. At random, I reached for the brunette princess, but before my hand could close over it I was barreled into. I glanced at the projectile and it turned out to be a six year old with a ruthlessly tamed mop of brown and glittering gray eyes.

"Oh! I'm really, really sorry. I'm late for class with Zhar. I mean," she coughed delicately. "Please forgive my trespass, it was purely accidental created by undo haste on my part."

This is why I don't play with the kiddies. Too much bright eyed exuberance, too much faith when everything should be called into question. Or maybe she was right and I was wrong, that blind faith has value? "What's your name, kid?"

"Bastila Shan. I'm visiting from Coruscant. It's very rural here." She sniffled. "And all the grass is giving me hay fever." Bastila. The name shuddered through me quickly, followed by the sharp clap of a panicked voice. _I am alive not because I escaped her, but because she let me! There is no end to her power. _It faded quickly, probably could be passed off as a shudder from a gust of wind.

"It is good to meet you. Hurry along, though. I wouldn't want to be the reason you were late." She smiled cheekily and ran off down a corridor. Malak tilted his head at me.

"What are these things?"

"Broken bits of nothing, right now. Soon: vision foci."

"…. Am I the bald Chess King?"

"Yes."

"I hate you." I chuckled and reached for the brunette princess again.

"Go away, Malak, I've got work to do. I'll meet up with you later." He grinned and nodded, leaving me to pop blood vessels in my eyes by intense concentration and painful visions. But, by the end of the day, all the broken bits were foci, all with meaning attached.

**Chapter 4**

I was turning over the white flecked black stone focus over in my hand. With a disturbing frequency and an astonishing clarity, I would dream of us talking. These were not visions; they were whispers. Every time something struck a cord against me here, he would be there, as well, in my head, congratulating me on recognizing the faults of the Jedi. I could feel him, little by little, putting those hooks into my mind. Falling to the darkside was not a possibility, but a matter of time. It was a bleak outlook, knowing that unless I killed something nearly unstoppable, I was doomed to darker pastures.

I could, theoretically, shut him out of my mind completely. Doing so, however, would lead to the consequence of being unable to have visions of him. He would be outside my sphere and he was too focal to the development (or lack thereof) of the galaxy for me to wish to do that. So I dealt with the dark whispers and tried to figure my own way through.

Looking into my proverbial crystal ball into the future was also rather bleak. So many roads led down that path for me. Am I a bad person? _Yes._ I ignored him. I don't think I'm a bad person, just offered too much temptation and pain, violence and power, not to have that be a likely prospect. I met up with Zhar, whom I have been spending more time with lately, as per Vrook's request. It was a high handed way of saying he saw the darkness in me. And that he thought Zhar's guileless logic would impress itself upon me. _He underestimates you. You are right, Zhar is weak and beneath you._

"We should always seek peaceful solutions," Zhar said. I had zoned off, but in conversations with him, that was usually okay. _Because he is beneath you. Hurt him. _ Geeze, talk about high handed tactics. Can someone say bad conscious on your shoulder? The voice subsided, almost chastised. At least someone listens. Where were we? Oh, right, Zhar, peaceful solutions.

"Peaceful solutions mean less bloodshed and less use of resources. It is a far more logical way of dealing with things in a cost/benefit analysis." Zhar frowned at my assessment but couldn't argue. Jedi were supposed to avoid emotions, so he couldn't just tell me to be less sociopathic and more soft and cuddly. I was already thinking like the cold, battle hardened warrior I would become. _By my side, we could rule this galaxy._ Having seen into the future, Dy'ean, I could rule this galaxy, without you. Far trickier is saving it. Still haven't figured that one out.

"Ego should be avoided. Pride is a dangerous emotion." Zhar was looking at me in a slightly concerned manner. I gave him my full attention for once.

"If pride is dangerous, Zhar, what are we to use to aspire to better ourselves?" I asked. He paused for a moment, knowing that even though I was only fourteen, he had to carefully compose all of his arguments.

"Thoughts of the greater good."

"Ah. But Zhar, this is no enemy looming. Why should we practice such barbarian proceedings such as lightsaber control, basic hand to hand, in essence, fighting? Why not devote ourselves to more scholarly pursuits, further science in large leaps?" Another pause.

"There is always the threat that an enemy will appear."

"Agreed, but if we Jedi are supposed to be of the light, scholars, diplomats, why would we be the ones doing the fighting?"

"The force aids in such things." Did he just say that the force is only useful for killing? Sigh.

"The force also heals, and rather strenuously. Should we not all be healers? If it is merely thoughts of the greater good, why are we not allowed to persuade different dignitaries in our special way? If we always must seek peaceful solutions, why would we bother learning to fight, and not focus more on how to achieve those peaceful situations?" I would have rather had this conversation with Vrook, but I liked hypotheticals almost as much as he hated them. The man has a one track mind and does not tolerate many arguments. I guess that's why he fielded me off to Zhar, who was looking a little flabbergasted right now.

"Revan… the Jedi Order does not only counsel against pride for the greater good. Pride is an emotion that can lead to the darkside. And we learn to fight to prepare against the possibility of battle." And we focus more on killing because we're good at it. Sigh, again. As much as Vrook shuts down debates with "Because it is that way, and always has been," as does Zhar with "It leads to the darkside." It is fundamentally impossible to have a serious argument with these individuals and I was beginning to think that was because they'd loose otherwise. _Yes, you are learning, young one._ I'm not listening.

"So, we fight because we're good at it?"

"I… that too. The force is ultimately destructive and productive in one. And brute force is sometimes the only tool we are left with." Wow. Zhar had been honest and coherent. I nodded and stopped toying with him like a dog with a bone. "Revan, may I ask you something?"

Sure, shoot. "Yes, Master."

"Are you excited about your upcoming sixteenth birthday?"

"Excitement is an emotion. There is no emotion, Master Zhar." I was going to stop toying with him, but it's just too easy sometimes. _Because he is worthless, like Vrook and the others._

"You are still young. I think you can reasonably be excited. Truth, Revan." The truth, Zhar? No, I'm not excited because its one year closer to total oblivion and my own fall to the darkside. I'm not excited because I am one year closer to _him_, and I am beginning to fear he isn't just looking for an apprentice but someone to share the galaxy and a bed with. I'm not excited because sixteen to me means I have years more to keep my sanity with dark whispers in my head that you and your fellow masters have not protected me from. _They have not protected you, Revan. You are bitter about that. It is only natural to hate them for it._

"I am… looking forward to the party, but am otherwise not thrilled."

"Why?"

"Conversely, more responsibility and a reminder of a wait for more responsibility. With this new age, there are more chores and classes which understandably is daunting. As well, I still have several years before I am an adult. Wanting and fearing something at the same time… is that odd?" Closer to oblivion and wishing for an end to this leg of the journey.

"Not at all, Revan. It's incredibly common." Somehow, Zhar, I doubt other teens are in my precise position. _He doesn't understand_. He understands enough. _He is beneath you_. Yes, but he is trying and he is kind hearted. _He is weak_. To that, I had no answer, because I could see all of his emotions and potential for the future too clearly.

**Chapter Five**

The visions Master was before me, curled into a chair with a good book. I knew her eyes didn't work, so I wondered how she saw the print. What did the words on the page look like to her? "Sit, Revan, I have a story for you."

I settled in for a good lecture. I knew where she was going with this, what she was about to say, what story she had for me. So when she told me of Darth Traya being betrayed, I said nothing. I had seen that almost first hand in a vision somewhere. Past or prophecy. With such a fount of knowledge available to me, I wondered if I should be a historian. But I never saw the use of learning such things, not me, not with it all readily available to me. When she finished, she looked up at me, comprehending. "Did you see me being cast down, child?"

You were cast down because the Sith always turn on each other, and you were not strong enough, allowed yourself to be betrayed. _Yes._ "Yes, my master, I saw." More odds stacked against me, one of my most influential masters is an ex-Sith lord. I pushed that aside for now. _You will join me._ We'll see.

"What did you think?" she asked, and it was almost sharp. I think you must have blinded yourself to see with the Force shortly after to not have seen that one coming.

"It was a display of a very old story. It seems almost mandatory for the Sith to be attacked and replaced by other Sith."

"What lesson do you take from it, Revan?" What lesson? Don't become a Sith, you'll get betrayed. _The gullible and the weak do not last. We are ruled by the best._ It doesn't take the smartest person to plan a murder or the most gullible to fall afoul of it.

"It has given me some insight to the workings of the Sith," I said ambivalently. She scowled.

"You've been spending too much time with Zhar. Now you actually think before you speak, and your responses are diplomatic and useless."

"Perhaps, Master, it is your frustration that is my goal."

"That sounded more like you, Revan. Are you excited about your upcoming birthday?" Why in the bloody hell do people keep asking me that! I should really think up a standard line.

"Should I be?"

"That was not the question," she replied quickly, shutting off any arguments. I had thought it was a nice diversionary tactic. Worked well enough on Zhar.

"I am not sure I see the importance of it. It is neither here nor there, for me." She nodded.

"You are dismissed to go about your duties." I was dismissed? I stood and left. Other Masters were less blunt with respect to the Jedi hierarchy, but I think something inherent about me made her feel inadequate. So she'd constantly remind both of us that she was in charge. _You could shape her, make her your apprentice._ What, and be trapped with her for even longer? I've got a better idea.

I didn't have any duties left for the day and all that was left was dinner, a short reading by Vrook, an hour of play, and off to sleep. The day had been rather long, however and I headed off to a particular patch of grass to meditate on. I recited to myself the Jedi code and forced myself not to break it apart into its separate parts. It was masterfully written, I thought, arrogantly written. It states, plainly, that all that we as Jedi, should strive for are the only things that exist and that all that we, as Jedi, should strive against are nothing. Repeated often enough, and the message fades into pretty words and peaceful images. Peace, knowledge, serenity, harmony, the Force.

When the brunt of the image hit me, I was more than ready for it. But this wasn't a vision; it didn't fall into the categories of past or prophecy. This was a slaughter, panic, pain. They fell from the sky like shooting stars; the flame blasting around them was beautiful, glorious, dangerous. They filled the sky with pretty trailing color and the screams of the dying. Women, children, men, boys, adolescents, and the old.

I could feel their pleasure at the carnage. A thirst for more, for better. This was too easy, this was honorless and nothing compared to what eagerly awaited them. But the scent of blood was invigorating; the minor wounds they sustained reminded them they were alive and strong. Blasters were not favored here; they needed the tactile sensation of divesting their enemies of their lives. Needed the feel of their muscles straining against their opponents, needed to overcome them by brute force. There had been no battles for a long time, and this ended a trend for them. There was glory and honor to be had just around the next bend; there was a galaxy waiting like a precious gem begging to be taken. _Yes!_

They hadn't been sure what was happening when they watched the heavens falling. When the first of the invaders arrived, puzzlement quickly turned to fear. There was no defensive plan, there was no opposition. Some quickly took weapons and guarded their homes, their families. Despair washed over the crowd, helplessness, and a fierce determination not to go gently into the dark. The invaders slaughtered, broke, and screamed their fury into the sky, like berserkers.

The pleasure of the invaders, the pain of the fallen on a planetary scale, swamped through me. I passed out screaming. I woke several days later in a hospital. The Republic had heard but was leery to head to war so soon after Exar Kun and their diminished resources. They were thinking of the good of the Republic. The Jedi… the Jedi agreed, did nothing. They even knew that the Mandalorians would not stop at the outer worlds. And did nothing. So I spent the next four years feeling the Mandalorians pick off worlds little by little, and grew to despise the Jedi council, strengthened my resolve to save the Republic from that carnage. They weren't supposed to be the protectors of the peace; they were supposed to focus on governing and protecting themselves. The Jedi are the protectors of peace. Or, at least, we were.

**Chapter Five**

I was knighted at nineteen. The council was almost grudging in their support, as though they were doing something bad. Maybe they were prophetic and saw those multiple streaming lines of the darkside as clearly as I did. Maybe they saw me as a proud and brilliant Sith Lord, saw me cut down by whatever apprentice I choose. For me, I knew, there would be no fair fight to the death. My apprentice would be overloaded with help or assassinate me from afar.

It's almost eerie seeing people betray you in the future, and knowing they had to be extra careful with it because you were too powerful. It was odd knowing you were possibly the most powerful Force user in existence. That your whims could decide the galaxy. And yet… I still hadn't found the path to salvation. I couldn't save the Republic, only conquer it or die with it. I was twenty years old, running out of time, still searching.

I had been too busy lately to search for that all important resolution. It always seems like after these missions of goodwill, of diplomatic aid, of relief efforts that I begin regretting the journey. What could be more important than saving the Republic? But what if the Republic cannot be saved, and I have squandered my time? What if by inaction I snuff out the very vision I am seeking? _It doesn't exist._

If I cannot save the Republic… I will go out fighting you, Dy'ean. _Join me, live, rule._ I found the familiar patch of early morning sunshine and began my trance. I started by listing facts. Soon, soon we would be at war. The Jedi will hesitate, thanks to Dy'ean, and left to themselves would be too late. If I lead them out, chances are we will fall. The option to stay to the lightside is there. If we don't fall, there is peace, for a while, then him and his vanguard. And they cast us into shadow.

If I fall, I will own this galaxy or die, or both. It is inevitable my apprentice will kill me. I could blind myself from the visions and I still wouldn't be easily defeated. Either way, me ruling the galaxy doesn't help it. It doesn't fare better under my care than it would under the care of any other Sith Lord. But I could defeat Dy'ean with his own armies; they would be loyal to me. Now, if I could use them, convert them, without going to the darkside…. A word whispered across my skull, redemption, and I fell into the vision. That was abnormal in and of itself, I never fall into a vision; I usually wake into them. But I fell headlong into this one, and saw the different opposite poles my visions had played out into converge into one middle ground.

I blind myself, take up arms against our invaders. We fight, we win, we fall. I return quickly as the Sith Lord, army in tow, and I teach the galaxy horrible things about life, death, and fighting against gods. The spin of the inevitable, and I am betrayed by the one person who knows me best, because I choose him to kill me properly. Providence, luck, the final piece of the puzzle, and my brunette princess brings me home. I put an end to the army I rose. But the process by which leaves me seeing as I did again, and I return to the start. And I leave, raise my armies again, and swamp through Dy'ean with converts and worshippers and followers. And the future stretches out long for the Republic.

I snapped into awareness so quickly that it left me stunned in the waning light of Dantooine. My first stop was to my vision master, she who I had surpassed at birth. She was bent over some old scrolls from a nothing planet and I knew they were artifacts of the darkside. She looked up with her sightless eyes when I entered. "Did you dream again?" she asked me.

"Yes, I dreamed again." My lucid dreams, my waking unconsciousness.

"Of the death of the Republic, of war… of him?" she asked.

"Yes." Yes, of Dy'ean, of war, of the Republic. "The future is not written," I began. No, not written, but it might as well be.

"You cannot save the Rebuplic. You cannot turn aside the tide of darkness that awaits us." Yes, actually, I can, and I will.

"When I dreamed… I found a vision of the future that I wanted."

"Where you saved the Republic?"

"Something along those lines." Savior and destroyer in one, the betrayer and the redeemed. "Do you know what the difference between a sacrifice and a fall is, Master?"

"Tell me, child."

"I'll do better. I'll show you. But, I want you to do something for me, when I do…." I paused. I could see the concentration sharpen her focus and she moved towards me, quickly.

"What?"

"Your bottle cap. I will prepare for you that eventuality, that death, but you must bring her to the place where it all will begin."

"Her? In my years of focusing on her I have not even been able to see her gender. Giving her to me… you are leaving things open, Revan. That's sloppy." There was suspicion in her voice, because I am never sloppy. But she banked on the principals of the universe, that there are things beyond my control, other eventualities to every vision. But I knew more about her skull than she did and it was all a matter of knowing people.

"I must leave now, I have other preparations to make," I said, turning away her questions and leaving them to burn inside of her. I headed to my room, pushed all the furniture out of the way, sat cross legged in the center of the floor, and purposely burned a part of myself away. _This will never work, Revan._ It already has.

**Chapter Six**

The Mandalorians attacked a Republic world the next day. Malak was suspicious when he learned, because without my second sight I wasn't keeled over or screaming when I felt the ripples in the Force. The Republic declared war, began its preparations, set forth. And the day after they did, the Jedi Order forbid its Knights from aiding the Republic. There was something out there, something beyond this initial threat, but they did not have the information on it. More time.

"How can they do this?" Malak asked me. He was beside me as we watched the news in a common room, with other Jedi puzzling over the Council's decree.

"If we do not act, the Republic will fall. If we act late, we are wasting resources," I said, leading him through the logic because I needed him to be my apprentice. I needed someone to betray me, and he knew me well enough to do it better.

"Rev… they're not resources, they're people." Force, he was sensitive and naive, and I would turn him into something horrible.

"I'm just taking it to its base form, Malak. Thinking logically. It confuses me. Those two points are given, and no amount of debating will change them. And yet, we wait." Does the Order have no foresight? No logic? I've dedicated years to them, and they would let the Republic fall out of fear?

"It would go against the Order to go to war."

"Yes, it would. And it goes against what they teach us to wait." The Order is a firm believer in waste not, want not.

"Is this a test, Revan?"

"No," I said simply. I turned to him then. "Do you trust me?"

"Implicitly," he responded.

"Do you want to save the Republic?" The only question that really mattered.

"You know I do."

"Even if it means your death?"

"Yes!"

"Even if it means being cast from the Order?"

"Again, yes, Revan."

"And even if it means being hated?" Being a Sith Lord. Killing countless innocents.

"I… yes, Revan." His trusting response. I am not someone you want to trust, Malak.

"Do you trust I want the same?"

"Yes."

"Then come with me." Why… why did I try to give him an out? Why did I try to warn him? Because he was Malak and I could find someone else to betray me. But if I went, he would follow, and I would leave nothing to chance. So I set forth and began my campaigning during a rather lengthy council meeting. I spoke of logic and waste, of our Jedi duty and holding to all they have taught us, of death and consequences. I sent some forth to gather others, told others to await my instructions. As I spoke to each I saw their death, their fall, their redemption, saw each as they would become, those who would come to worship me and those who would come to hate me.

I came upon the young brunette Bastila, sixteen, eager eyed, thirsty for knowledge, and dedicated to the Jedi Order. I could have her follow me; I knew just what to say.

"What are you doing? The Jedi Council will surely give their aid to the Republic soon. We must have patience." Sorry, honey, they will not officially support the Republic in this war. If you believe they will offer their aid, then it makes no sense not to go now, not waste resources.

"The council is wrong in this. Now is not the time for thought, but for action. They killed Republic citizens. We must retaliate."

"Revenge is never a Jedi's goal!"

"It should be. The difference between revenge and justice is small, and I'll take what I can get."

"Master Vandar says that the difference is great."

"Master Vandar is a shaggy eared, decrepit fool. Follow me and we will save the Republic, be lauded as heroes." And that took care of that. The shock and anger sparking in her extraordinary grey eyes as she swirled and took off spoke volumes as to how long she would stay, the faith I gave her in the Jedi. My battalion left several days later on a Republic ship. I coordinated with Admiral Dodonna and began to fight a war.

**Chapter Seven**

We started off taking orders. I don't mean this in a bad way, but the Republic generals had no clue what they had been handed. So, one night, I took a General Kli Muir out for a drink. He was well respected, had the ear of many, many people, and his official position involved troop placement. He also happened to have the body of an Adonis, hair the color of harvest wheat, eyes a storm grey, and the most even and amazing tan this side of fantasy. Not that I noticed.

I started him with conversation and a weak drink, which I idly ran over body conditioning (really, that many reps, teehee). I guided the conversation gently back to the war efforts and hit him up with my plans. I wanted two Jedi on every main ship, with at least one accompanying every landing party. I wanted major restructuring, mainly getting the more experienced staff away from the inner lines and spread out along the front. And, I wanted more of a say.

Naturally, Kli was skeptical. Two harder drinks and flirtatious complimenting later… he was still skeptical. Several rounds more passed and I was beginning to think I had overdone the girl bit when Kli managed to get himself into a fight with four Gammoreans, being completely unarmed as he was. Short work had them bleeding and limping away.

"Daamn, girl, you're… you're stringing me along. That's almost insulting."

"Yea, but you believed it, which happens to be a little more insulting," I shot back good naturedly, steering his stumbling, well-toned butt to a chair. He grinned back before putting on a sober expression.

"I'm going to need to think about this, Revan. But what you said does make sense. I can't guarantee anything." Which was a lie. He could guarantee me his services, and that alone would give me more say as to my orders. I left it at that and stumbled him to his room. He invited me in and the look I gave him was enough to have him laughing.

I headed back to my quarters and their attached workshop. Working among the Jedi had given me droid parts, all the proper tools, and the skill I needed to build, but none of the time or ingenuity. Suffice to say, if the Order finds out you have any knack whatsoever with machinery, they make you fix protocol droids. I had personally made the designs for four distinct combat droids currently being used on the front lines and seven revisions to other droids. However, I was never truly allowed to actually build droids (beyond rebuilding droids from the myriad of old, eclectic parts).

I was still didling with the personality on this one. Blunt, effective sarcasm would be his friend. Perhaps a personality more mercenary than all those polite droids. Hell, more mercenary than the combat droids who just can't seem to call a spade a spade. Let's face it; they're killing people, not removing obstructions, eliminating targets, taking out the trash. But then, I can't have him have an attack of conscience on me. I could always go for sarcastic psycho killer. But oh, what would the Jedi think.

I think I was beyond caring at that point, considering what his rather illegal main use would be. No, it's not evil, darksided, or cold to have an assassin droid. It's practical. I fell asleep at the desk, mid actuator, and was woken by a beep from my com. It was, naturally, Kli, requesting my presence.

I did a quick change of clothes and thanked the Force that my hair was always a mess, so no one could possible expect anything else. Even the sleep crease of my cheek was gone by the time I reached him. He was in the middle of a conference call with several admirals and generals and all talking stopped when I entered.

"Forgive us, Revan. We have not been taking the advice of the leader of the rogue Jedi who came to our aid. We would like to hear your thoughts on the matter," Admiral Dodonna said. I began, vague at first, then pulling up maps and naming names. I spoke of people who had been raised in jungles and should be posted near this planet; I spoke of Jedi who could sense people at much longer ranges and should be on these scout ships. There was little murmuring at first, but it grew as I went on, grew as I spoke of Republic soldiers.

When I finished, Kli was first to speak. He agreed with me on all I had said with regards to the placement of ships and soldiers, had been telling others much the same things. Others rushed in the gap when he finished but Dodonna silenced them. "I agree. I will see that the changes are carried out. As for an official position, Revan, we ask that you advise Kli in these matters. Thank you."

Damn it. The conference ended. "Congrats, Subgeneral Revan." That wasn't good enough. He must have caught my concealed displeasure. "Revan, what?"

"I… I want more than this. I have no real power, still, I must curry your favor in order to merely suggest things." Wow, that was rather honest of me, to plainly tell him such. He lost himself in thought for a moment, staring at me with shrewd eyes. I could almost smell the wheels turning in his head.

"You have me. I might ask for an explanation every now and again, but I do trust you and I can pledge myself to you," he said. It was a step up, but I distrusted it none the less.

"Thank you, Kli. I'm going to go make some calls, prepare my Jedi. I'll be in touch." He nodded and gave me a look I was only beginning to recognize. It goes beyond respect but only borders on worship, and it was so utterly new to me. At the time.

**Chapter Eight**

Somewhere in the middle of the bustle of rearrangement, I found myself on another flagship, headed out to the neither regions. The currently stationed Jedi was headed off to a different ship, dispersing of the higher ranks. She found me beating the hell out of combat droids of my make and model. I was studying up for my own personal project. She stood perfectly still as a droid head went whizzing by her head. I gave the command to deactivate the others and swirled my twin lightsabers, eying her.

Liam was a Jedi Knight that caught the tail end of the Exar Kun wars in her youth. She had fought and commanded before, had more experience, and was probably better equipped to lead the Jedi into battle than I was. "Looking for a work out?" She nodded and snapped on her own saber.

I like fighting. I'll say that now, plainly. I enjoy it like I do few things. Most enjoy games, a test of their skill. This is my test. Others like to write, draft stories and create poems. This is my obsession. I'm told that certain foods people actually find pleasurable. There is no physical pleasure greater for me.

I like the feel of straining muscles, warmth and sweat, the flow of blood. There was pain in the exertion, too, but even that is, in a way, pleasurable. Like the first sharp sting of a cut, before any aches or harsher pains. It's very clear, very distinct, very live. And the mindset that accompanies, the blanket of thoughts to focus on reaction while still seeking patterns.

We had gathered a crowd and it must have been a while that we went solo like that. We had minor gashes that I doubt either of us realized and were panting lightly. "I know what you're thinking, kid. This isn't the way to decide which of us is better equipped to lead. You led us out here, Revan. Continue on." She snapped her double bladed light saber off and I followed suit, snapping both into their spots at my hip. I quirked a brow and a lip at her.

"Of course, you say this after, oh, two hours of fighting," I said. She gave me a sheepish grin.

"Yea, well, you make some sound decisions, but I had to see if you lived up to the hype."

"I do." I left it at that. Of course, I hadn't beaten her squarely. I had not won, merely fought her to a standstill. She must have seen that thought on my face, because she began laughing.

"Give it time, Kid. I've fought wars, and you've put me on the defensive without use of force. Just because you're new doesn't mean you're not good."

"Then why do you call me kid?" I can't help it sometimes. I argue for the sake of argument itself. She grinned.

"You've got the same size breasts as my twelve year old niece."

"You don't have a niece," I said. Yes, I checked. She laughed again, and I was caught by how very un-Jedi-like that was. To be friendly, personable, charismatic. And for that, I liked her. There was a tone signaled and I was called away. I met the captain in his private chambers. He was old, weathered, a veteran, sad with nothing to loose.

"They took a Republic planet near the outer rim, Ucalar, and are…" he began, but I cut him off. No foresight needed, for this one.

"They've taken the planet and kept the people as hostages instead of laying it to waste. And because the Republic President's son in law is from Ucalar, he thought we should go down and rectify the situation." The captain nodded. I gave him a grim smile and went off to make plans.

**Chapter Nine**

Liam was beside me, chuckling softly. We overlooked the capitol city, brimming with Mandalorians. The Ucalar people were, needless to say, already slaughtered. There were a few countries and cities on the world that had relinquished to the Mandalorians and the rest had been decimated. My assembled fleet behind me was far fewer in number than the Mandalorians in the city. Of course, half of that were Jedi; we had shown in force for the first true face to face battle fought with the Mandalorians. We would teach them fear; we would teach them respect; we would set the tone for the rest of the war.

"Well, hell, Subgeneral. Are you sure about this?" Kli asked me, his hand on my shoulder. By the end of today, I'd own him, and all the other survivors of this battle. I smiled.

"Oh yes," I said, softly, gently, in a tone most reserve for their lover in the most intimate of times.

"They've noticed us," someone yelled.

"Stand ready, positions!" I yelled back. Kli moved off, heading back to the bulk of the army that was ringed around the side. I had chosen a valley with hills on either side. Marksmen ranged on the hills. Grenadiers stood interspersed with my Jedi, who would rush forward to meet them.

They had no plan, no thought. They rushed us with numbers, wildly. It was a mistake. Aside from setting themselves up for the marksmen and the grenadiers, they ran closer to us, to death. I rushed forth, giving the order for my Jedi to follow. We waded into them and cut them down like a gardener cutting grass. They tried swarming each Jedi individually. It only made it easier to kill them quicker. They tried swords over blasters; it made no difference. They never retreated, but it was futile from the beginning. Across this globe, similar battles were taking place. Ucalar was reclaimed in a matter of days.

"An auspicious beginning, Revan?" Liam asked. I nodded.

"I always believed in putting my best foot forward." We headed and set up shop in the capitol, using what the Mandalorians had prepared for a great feast to hold one of our own. Naturally, given who prepared it, it consisted of a lot of strong alcohol. I told at least eight people that I don't drink before I gave up and headed out. I was in the hallway when three men passed in the juncture ahead of me. I stopped to listen to their conversation, leaning against the wall for some unnamed reason. My Jedi sense was tingling.

"Did you see General Revan out there? Holy hell!" the first said.

"Subgeneral, and yea, that was amazing. What about you, Carth?" the second asked. My breath froze. He laughed.

"I try not to stare at lightning. That's what she looked like from where I was standing," Carth said. One of his buddies chuckled.

"I was told she had long blonde hair, and legs that go all the way up," he drawled. The other laughed and joined in.

"I was told she was a scrawny tomboy looking thing. What do you think, Carth? Sex goddess or butch chick?" he asked. Carth laughed, shaking his head; I could almost see the gleaming oak colored hair from here.

"I don't care either way, as long as she gets me back to my wife," he said, and the three moved on. His wife. I had one of those vertigo moments where past visions swirled before my minds eye.

"Sorry about that, man," I said softly to the empty corridor and headed towards my room. I found Kli in the hallway outside of my room. His tanned form leaned almost casually against my doorframe.

"I'm putting in a recommendation that you be promoted to the rank of General and all that entails," he said, first, foremost, business by way of greeting. Since it was what I preferred, I inclined my head but waved it off.

"They'll figure it out," I said, then took a moment to study him. He was attractive, intelligent, he trusted me and he liked me. Why was I obsessing over a married man who would be crushed under the weight of misery and discarded before I happen upon him? Of course, I knew the answer to that question, but all the same. I was a big proponent of living one's life to the fullest. "Was that all you wanted, General?" I asked, managing to make him seem small beside me. He grinned.

"Not unless you reconsidered my original proposal. You know, the troops think you're a sex goddess," he said. I laughed.

"Or a butch chick. You've seen me close up. You tell me," I said. Inwardly, a part of me gasped. I was flirting. He slid closer, placing his hands on my hips.

"I think I'll have to reserve judgment until I've seen you. Close up." I chuckled at him.

"Talk about lame pick up lines. Next you'll ask me if I'm tired from running through your head all night." His eyes shone with laughter, respect, and a little something like love, but could be more aptly described as devotion. Right then, that was good enough for me. I hit the door and he followed me in.

**Chapter Ten**

The giant and great turn around of the war effort in favor of the Republic shortly after my being named Subgeneral was not missed. Neither was the same effect missed when I was promoted to General and they gave me Kli Muir's job. It was then that I stopped counting the positions and job titles. As I advanced, I brought Liam with me.

She, as I, never had much use for titles or names. She, unlike me, also had very little use for power. But she was smart, organized, a brilliant tactician and a brilliant fighter. She was half as good at reading people as I was and that alone made her invaluable. But, of course, these forced upon her positions caused a change in her. Being in charge of people, of their lives, endowed on her leadership skills, responsibility, something to combat that want in her to abandon and wander. She was a nomad at heart, from a nomadic people. But I made the Republic hers in a way it never was before.

For the battles she would fight, for what I needed her to do, I had effectively molded her into my vessel. I would break her, ruin her, fill her with death, and send her off on destruction. I allowed myself a smug little smile when I thought of my old visions master and of Malachor. Speaking of which, I was growing closer to that hand of destiny. As that inevitability grew, so did something else.

Darkness. _Come to me, Child._ When I had blinded my second sight, the darkness had fallen quiet, unable to reach me when I was unable to meet him half way. But I got closer to him, and not in a physical sense, and he became present again. It mattered nothing to me. _What happened to your resolve to defeat me?_ He didn't know I needed to be there, with him, to be able to defeat him. Naturally, staring into the abyss does not come without consequences. I grew cold, colder than I normally was, which was saying something. Risky rescue missions that usually ended in stealing back corpses, those were out. We stopped taking prisoners. Any qualms I had about using the Force to break into people's mind for information evaporated. Speeches for morale were prewritten, reused, stereotyped. There is no passion, there is only logic. Everything to the best advantage, nothing human or compassionate. I am sure others thought the horror and necessity of the war inspired this. It didn't.

I was looking at a Mandalorian prisoner, several Republic soldiers at my side. He was useless; I had all the information I needed from him. I saw not a person, but a drain on resources, however minor. The soldier to my left was crying, shaking with rage. He was intelligent, loyal, a master strategist. I asked the others to leave us. "I hate them," he said.

"It is not our policy to keep prisoners. They would be a waste of resources and offer no bargaining at a diplomatic level. We all know the Mandalorians are not thinking of stopping until they or we are all dead," I said to him. "Leave him to me, and I will have someone dispose of the body in a bit." No, that was not my goal. The soldier pulled his blaster with a shaking hand.

"I want to kill him," he said. "I want to hurt him." To die while not in battle was very painful to a Mandalorian. "I want to make him bleed," he said softly. I handed him a baton. His eyes were wide, surprised, full of unshed tears.

"Then do it," I responded. I watched him take out his hate and grief and frustration on that Mandalorian, watched him cover them both with blood and gore. Long after the man had stopped breathing, that soldier kept at him. When he finally stopped, he leaned against a wall, panting, shaking with something else. "What do you feel?"

"Better. Justified. Avenged. I…" he trailed off with a shudder. I nodded and quietly set about putting the lump of meat into a body bag. After a while, he helped. Together, we dragged it over to the normal area, where someone later would knock it out an airlock. "Thank you," he said, "Admiral Revan, ask and I will come. I will follow you into hell itself." And, of course, he would. Saul would not resist my dark call long, and he would help me sweep across this galaxy. _You are learning, young one, quite well._ I helped Saul wipe some of the Ordo clan's blood off his face. The Mandalorian was Tiaus Ordo, a cousin to a man who would later in his life also pledge to me his allegiance.

**Chapter Eleven**

I left the bed, walked to the view port to stare out at the stars. Kli shifted on the mattress, looking at me. "You're beautiful," he said softly, reverently. I imagine looking at my naked backside, haloed by the glow of the stars, moved him, made him look past the scars and my own unnatural gauntness, past my unfashionable whipcord muscle. I said nothing in turn.

We were bound for Malachor, for that final fight. My assassin droid was damaged after a successful mission, had a memory 'wipe,' was sent after Mandalore and failed. He would be toted around the galaxy, lost for a while, before being returned to me. Funny, I would never be able to use my assassin droid as Darth Revan. It was almost an irony. I was looking forward to fighting Mandalore, to killing him. He was not a Force user, but he was formidable. I was excited.

"What are you thinking, Revan?" Kli asked. He never professed to love me, but I am sure he thought he did. He didn't. His devotion, his allegiance, his loyalty, was not love, no matter what he told himself. Our relationship was rather honest, otherwise. We didn't date; we didn't admit undying love; and we didn't confuse sex with anything. We were friends. I respected him. I enjoyed his body on a rather detached and physical level.

It was hard to do otherwise when I kept seeing his death on Malachor in my mind. Better than living and either being betrayed by me, or commanded by me. "I was thinking of Malachor."

"That's three days off."

"Barely enough time to prepare. I am locking myself in solitude later today, will be meditating for the rest of the trip," I said. Unspoken was that this was our last night together. He was quiet for a moment.

"I don't understand much about the Jedi and how you guys do what you do, but I'll make sure you're able to do it," he said, speaking of making sure I was uninterrupted. Unspoken was that he was help me in any manner I choose, his loyalty to me lacing his words. Then, he held up the covers for me in invitation. If this was his last night with me, he was determined to make full use of it. If this was my last night on the side of angels (at least for a while), I was also determined to make full use of it. I headed back to bed.

I floated above the floor of a smooth, unadorned room, with an alcove containing a sparse bed, a fridge, and the door to the bathroom curtained off in the corner. I had little use for it. Slowly, patiently, I sheared off my visions, buried them deep behind a wall of pain and blood and disbelief. I kept some, the dark and the light, but everything important was locked away. The estimable Onasi went behind that wall because I couldn't possibly have my Darth Revan self go searching. I pulled up a vision, a possibility where I blind my second sight out of anxiety and fear and a want not to see horrible futures. And I replayed it often enough that I began to believe it.

I wondered if Darth Revan would be ashamed and angry at a younger self who destroyed such a powerful tool. I hoped so. When I was content that everything necessary was locked away, that the walls were high and impregnable enough, and that I wouldn't go searching, I shut the door to the past memories of visions and hit the floor of my meditation room with a thud.

I woke several hours later, ate, showered, used the facilities, groomed and set to prepare myself to battle. First, I meditated to clear my mind, remove all doubts and thoughts and misgivings. I faced my fear that I would go to that dark planet and be changed, accepted it, rose above it. I stretched, did a few warm up exercises, and had just finished when the bell sounded that we were beginning our attack. Beginning our descent.

**Chapter Twelve**

Malak, and I wasn't sure when he arrived on my ship, Liam, and I were shuttling down to the planet with other Jedi, troops. Malak was piloting it; Liam and I were quiet, focused. As we neared, I panicked. My Dark King had opened senses I deadened when I blinded myself and already Jedi, Mandalorians, and Republic soldiers were screaming through my head. I couldn't fight like this. And the sense of pervasive darkness was growing, mangling. We would fall, all of us, completely and utterly._ Yes! Yes, come to me. It is too late to turn back. You are mine now!_ He crowed in victory. I couldn't save myself. Malak's eyes were already shining with bloodlust; the man I knew was already gone and the darkness was targeting me, willful, malicious.

I brushed my hand against Liam and in a shining moment I changed her. I built a wall around her to keep the darkness out, that the Jedi may have some help when I swam back to devour them whole. I put everything I had into that wall. Of course, it was my wall, my energy, and the darkness was focused not on me, but on my defenses. All the death that had taken place and would take place today would bind itself to her, and the wall would collapse like a neutron star, some sort of Force black hole that would knock her abilities from her. The timing of it was perfect, it would collapse just as she was leaving the planet. She would blame the Council when she met with them, not even realizing it was my own work.

I did not, then, know the enormity of what I had done. I knew days before, days after, but not then. It's amazing how much of fate rested on a moment of instinct and, most importantly, dumb luck. If fate favors fools and young children, I had just been treated like the youngest, dumbest person in the universe. I was Darth Revan before I descended to that planet.

How do I describe it? I will give you an analogy. When a person goes on vacation, they tell their friends several things when they return. It was a little cloudy the first day but cleared up by the second; the beach was white sand and the water was crystal clear and amazing. On the third day I found this gorgeous conch shell; it was cool. I learned how to snorkel, it was so much fun! We ran out of gas on the way back one night, but it was okay. It didn't really ruin the trip, and we got to make fun of Sharon for it for the rest of the trip.

It was foggy, overcast, and jagged; it set the mood so perfectly that it was amazing. When I fought with Mandalore I found him to be very skilled; it was unparalleled and unadulterated _fun_. I also greatly enjoyed slaughtering strong warriors to an extent that was very new to me. I watched Kli die, but even that did not disturb my mood. The pounding of raw power blotted out anything but rage, blood, violence, and towering pleasure in it all.

All in all, it was a wonderful trip.

**Chapter Thirteen**

I knew we were different. I knew we were all changed. My brethren, however, didn't quite grasp the concept. Before we left the planet, I had arranged the Jedi to be on separate ships. Naturally, logically, intellectually, we all knew we had personally been changed. If you knew you had been altered against you will, wouldn't you fight that off? Reclaim the old? Let no one control you? This was different. It was like being drunk, all inhibitions being cast off; and, Jedi have many, many inhibitions. It was like finally being set free.

I was born a prophet; didn't that make me superior? I was born with unimaginable power; didn't that mean all things should be under my control? I had saved this galaxy; shouldn't that make it mine? Did I not deserve to be happy? Why should I agonize over the killing of an enemy when all necessity points to their death? All my doubts, all my fears, all my pain and sorrow, but for what?

Such human emotions made no sense to me anymore. If I was strong enough to take what I wanted, what I deserved, what was owed to me by birthright, should I not take it? And the Republic, it was ripe for the plucking.

Many people do not understand the darkside in its entirety. Allow me to help. I liken it to some violent videogame; you beat the person to death with a bat and steal their car, sleep with a hooker and then kill her to get your money back, head to a rooftop and shoot down. Your friend, next to you, is cheering you on, giving you ideas. It's just a video game; it's not like they are people.

I have never seen people as equals, as people. They have always been resources, tools, pawns in my great game of chess. They have always been either mine, soon to be mine, or fodder. The best of minds have called me a sociopath, even in my 'pristine light purity.' I have never been compassionate and I have never been clean white. My fall was not a very large change.

An old woman once told another old woman that it was a quiet thing to fall. Yea. Right. My dark Jedi made it back to the ships, their inhibitions freed, and they were like freshman college students away from home the first time. We went through the stores of liquor in a matter of hours. People who had never lain with another were engaged in orgies. Plunder from the planet below was bartered about, spice at a premium. Every sin imaginable was played out within moments.

In a way, it was like a combination of something of unparalleled beauty with something of unimaginable horror. A dead body wrapped in the finest of silk. A crystalline snowflake dipped in blood. Of course, in the gamut of sins there was murder. And these were not people, but _my_ army. I established myself as their leader quickly, set down guidelines and rules and punishments. For a day, I was blatantly disobeyed. Several horribly mangled, screaming bodies later, I was their goddess.

We left the outer rim and went… well, outward. I gave the impression of searching for more things to kill, oops, to find any last Mandalorians and make sure they meant us no harm. From there, we refueled, gathered troops, trained, prepared. I found a surprising number of Sith left over from Exar Kun's era. How sloppy of the Jedi to leave them for me! How fun it was to snap them up! Malak became my second at around this time because, let's face it, he was so solidly mine that I could do no other. He worshipped me like no other. Worshipping me was a good thing.

I had fun outfitting myself there. I chose the optimum Correllian silk in a thick, loose black. Above that went a customized breastplate of light, strong armor. Computer imagery fined it down to the edges and grooves of my entire chest so that the armor would actually _fit_. Not that I am bitter that all breastplates are made for men. Gloves and boots were made to match. Over it all went a cape of striated, metallic black that looked like it could blot light from the stars themselves. And the mask. The mask was a custom piece that came into being after about the third crack that I looked like a twelve year boy (it came before the breastplate). I had to do something to stop me from randomly cutting people's heads off… not that it wasn't fun.

I made many of the Jedi study at the Trayus Academy on Malachor V. I plundered the Academy, seeking information. I ate through books at a speed born of a true intellectual, learned the secrets and truths of the Sith Empire. I learned of the Sith'ari, and though it odd that a person possessing knowledge of both light and dark would still be designated as Sith. That Sith would exemplify this and that the Jedi are so very hushed about it. I dismissed this and any prophecies concerning it. I was a blind prophet, why would I listen to someone else's ramblings? Somewhere in my reading I found a little tidbit about a wondrous mechanical monstrosity and a key to which was hidden, of all the odd places, on Dantooine, in ruins. So, I set off.

**Chapter Fourteen**

I stood on Dantooine, Malak beside me. He was continuing on about the place, letting his senses go, being seduced by those dangerous whispers, giving in. He was weak, but that was why I loved him. He wasn't cut out to be a Jedi; he was too sensitive. "Do you think they will find us here, stop us?" he asked, speaking of the council.

I, however, already owned the planet. And, I had not publicly identified myself as the newest plague upon this galaxy. The Jedi couldn't touch me, because my trial would have to be public and the Republic lauded me as a hero. They would surely intercede on my behalf and the Jedi would have to forfeit to them. It was almost eloquent. "Malak, I own this world and these people already."

"If we go in, we will never be welcomed back," he said, like _this_ was the major turning point. I laughed bitterly and opened the door before me.

"Malak, we were exile the second we left this world to protect the Republic." We are already doomed. "We would never have been welcomed back. Watch and see, watch Liam return to them in health and light, and see their reaction." He said nothing and followed me in.

There was an old droid speaking archaic languages. I traded obscure repartee with it while Malak watched in perplexity. I got tired quickly; it told me nothing I hadn't already knew. It was useless, but I let it be.

I fought the first guard droid, smirking in superiority. "My damned missing assassin droid could cut through these like butter," I said to him, approaching the ancient terminal at the far end. He followed. I let him punch buttons and kick the machine before I stepped in, spoke to it, gave it a data pad. I was amazed by the translation software on the machine. It was highly advanced, and I wanted the technology for my own, to pass on. I silently mocked myself for being a gearhead (a geek ruler of the galaxy?) and answered the shockingly easy and inane for the level of technology questions and moved on to the next room and the next set of questions. In the room I unlocked, I found a map.

An incomplete map. "You've got to be freaking kidding me!" I raged, tossing spare shoots of lightning across the room. I muttered, complained, and set off for the other pieces of the map.

I did so quickly. Or as quickly as I could, given the circumstances. I think it was Manaan's map that irritated me most, being at the bottom of the ocean, surrounded by sharks. There was something… annoyed and primal nearby. My own dark presence woke it, and I left it to feed. I also hit up a few council members before heading off, stressed that they take care of themselves, not to choose the loosing side, ever. Oh, that helped me in the years to come.

Also helpful was Kashyyyk, where I overthrew the current Wookiee leadership and left in charge someone who would export me furred labor. I took some rather interesting rugs with me from that meeting. There was a hermit that I thought about disturbing, maybe even converting. But, he would have required effort, and I was in speed mode.

The most boring planet was Tatooine. I wasn't even able to stir up instability. The planet was host to its own problems, and I got too much sand in too many unmentionable places. Speaking of sand, Korriban. Korriban was like finding a treasure trove, a major resource that required little effort. All I had to do was impress a few people that I was kickassier than they were, and bam, instant Sith troopers and academy within. It was supported, barely, by Czerka. Of course, I let Czerka in on the ground floor of my walking furries business and soon Korriban began bustling under the onslaught of fed up Jedi and cast off force users, rogues, mercenaries, and others seeking bloodshed. I glorified in their arrival, built my army strong and legion before we took that first world.

I conquered; I destroyed; I built; I prepared; I slaughtered; I enjoyed. And, naturally, I fell from my dizzying height with an abrupt crash. In those final moments with Bastila hanging over my dying form as I used all the force power in my to keep my heart beating, I wondered. I wondered if I had known this would happened. And I wondered if I had planned this. And, because it was me, I knew I had.


End file.
